


Of Fevers and Space Exploration

by orangeunnie



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Domestic Joong is adorable, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Seonghwa has a crappy immune system, Sickfic, loveable little shits, the others are little shits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 11:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18991660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orangeunnie/pseuds/orangeunnie
Summary: Seonghwa comes down with the flu and Hongjoong goes full on domestic mode.





	Of Fevers and Space Exploration

**Author's Note:**

> I am back again with yet another Ateez sick fic! Saw someone on twitter say they wanted to see Hongjoong taking care of Seonghwa so here we are. That boy needs to stop getting sick/injured irl so I can move on from this trope :P

Seonghwa was an early riser. Usually between 6:30 and 7 in the morning he’d be waking up at the sound of traffic and the city coming to life below their dorm window. A light sleeper, the smallest noises would rouse him. However, in the bunk beneath him, Hongjoong would be dead to the world, always coming back from the studio late into the night and then sleeping until noon if their schedule allowed. His soft breathes would be barely audible and occasionally there would be the muffled beat of music from his headphones still in his ears that he’d fallen asleep with. On those days, Seonghwa would gently untangle the wires, pause his phone and set them on their shared nightstand before heading to go shower and eat breakfast. 

Today was not one of those days. 

It was a thin hand nudging Seonghwa’s shoulder that woke him. Or at least tried to. 

“Yah, Park Seonghwa...” A whispered voice came from somewhere near the railing of his bed. Seonghwa groaned, trying not to let go of the unconscious world he’d been in. Somewhere in his mind he registered the damp feeling of sweat on his back, making his t-shirt cling to his skin. It was uncomfortable but he was too tired to care. 

The nudge turned into a poke. “It’s nearly 9:30, you have to get up. We have pract- Oh..” The hand traveled up to his face, cool against his cheek. Seonghwa groaned again, leaning into it without realizing. “You’re really warm, Seonghwa...”

Blearily, Seonghwa finally peeled his eyes open, as much as he could anyway, and found Hongjoong’s face level with his pillow and looking at him with a frown. 

“I think you have a fever.” 

Hongjoong pushed himself up farther (he must have been standing on his mattress below) and placed his palm full on Seonghwa’s forehead. Seonghwa blinked dazedly, finally noticing the ache running through his body and head. When had that happened? He was tired yesterday but had otherwise felt fine. 

“Joong,” he finally said, voice hoarse and dry. He wasn’t actually sure what he was going to say but he suddenly felt shy under Hongjoong’s gaze and tried to nudge his leader’s hand away. 

Hongjoong huffed and hopped back down to the floor. “I’m going to go call our manager, you shouldn’t be going out today.”

Right. They had practice, and then a small fanmeet at a middle school. They had also wanted to go on vlive if they had time afterward too. Seonghwa pushed himself up on his elbows, ready to insist that he was fine enough to join them, but the room spun a bit and the headache lingering in the distance suddenly slammed into him full force. 

“Jesus, you’re as white as a ghost. Lay down,” Hongjoong muttered, picking up the pace in which he was dialing on his phone. 

Oh. 

Seonghwa lowered himself back into his sheets, closing his eyes to ward off the throbbing dizziness. He must have dozed off rather quickly because the next time he opened his eyes, Wooyoung was hanging off the foot of his bed, Yeosang was at his side with Hongjoong and the other four were hovering in the doorway. If his face hadn’t already been flushed from fever, Seonghwa was sure it would have been now. 

“You don’t look good, hyung,” Wooyoung remarked rather loudly, reverberating through Seonghwa’s skull. 

“Shhh, Wooyoung-ah,” Hongjoong scolded quietly. Wooyoung headed back to the doorway looking dejected. 

He wasn’t sure why but tears pricked Seonghwa’s eyes and he turned his head away towards the wall. Maybe it was because he finally accepted that he wouldn’t be going with them today, excluded and alone, or maybe just because he was feeling like absolute crap and currently being stared at by seven pairs of eyes. Hongjoong must have sensed his distress as he whispered something to the other members and they quickly dispersed after a few softly spoken “get better soon, hyung”s. 

Again, Hongjoong’s small hand met his shoulder. It felt strange to Seonghwa. He was always vying for Hongjoong’s attention, joking and whining that he wasn’t close with him, in a physical sense. He doted on the others, hugging them, patting their heads, letting them lean on him even though he was smaller than all of them. Seonghwa wanted that too, but Hongjoong was always more reserved with him despite their similar age. He often wondered why that was but could never pinpoint a reason, and Hongjoong would never say. So it felt strange and awkward for Hongjoong to be offering physical comfort to him now. His hand still felt cool through Seonghwa’s t-shirt and the soft weight of it seemed to ground him in a way that he hadn’t thought possible. Seonghwa felt a lump form in his throat. 

“Manager hyung is going to take you to the hospital, we think it’s just the flu but your temperature is too high, I checked it when you fell back asleep,” Hongjoong explained, voice pinched and slightly higher than usual. 

Seonghwa swallowed away his emotion the best he could and nodded into his pillow. He didn’t want to go to the hospital, hated them, but if Hongjoong said so, it was happening. 

“He should be here soon. One of the other drivers is going to take us to the studio. Manager will meet us there after he brings you back home later.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa replied, trying to hide the wobble in his voice. 

Hongjoong’s hand slid off him and it felt like Seonghwa had been untethered, floating off into outer space without a rope. He turned his head back to watch him go, Hongjoong turning one last time at the door with a small wave and a nervous smile. 

“Don’t think about anything, just get some rest.” And then he was gone. 

 

 

The hospital trip was uneventful save for a few pokes with a needle, much to Seonghwa’s displeasure, leaving a small bandage on both his arms. Whatever they’d given him had made him feel much better though, enough so that he didn’t feel nauseous in the car like he had on the way in. His fever had gone down too and he felt a little more human when he returned home. 

His manager forced him back to bed however, citing that the living room would be too distracting with the TV and Yunho’s games in easy reach. Seonghwa complied without much of a fight, except that he opted for Hongjoong’s lower bunk, hoping he wouldn’t mind. He was feeling better, yes, but the ladder down from his bunk this morning had felt like a high wire circus act and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to attempt it again every time he needed to use the bathroom, especially with no one else around for the afternoon. He laid back and imagined the chaotic scene of his members returning to discover his untimely death via bunk bed fall, his poor body sprawled amongst his Gundam figures and Hongjoong’s accessories (not the way to go). Hongjoong would just have to use his bed for the night; Seonghwa had always thought that being the smaller one, he should have gotten the top bunk anyway. He soon drifted off to the scent of Hongjoong’s shampoo and laundry detergent wafting around him from his pillow.

He dreamt of many things; the stage, their practice room, his hometown, old friends, new friends, the drama he had been watching in the evenings lately with San. It was all jumbled together, scenes changing and evolving, morphing into one continuous stream of his daily life. Hongjoong was there (how could he not be?), flitting in and out yet always trying to tell Seonghwa something. For some reason his voice was muffled, and every time Seonghwa tried to ask, his own throat closed up, unable to speak. Just when his dreams changed, Hongjoong on the edge of being forgotten, he would appear again, mouth forming shapes Seonghwa couldn’t hear. 

“What is it, Hongjoong?” Seonghwa would try to say. His tongue was thick, the air being sucked from his lungs, nothing but a slight whistle coming out. He started to panic. 

Hongjoong watched curiously as Seonghwa tried to inhale, hands reflexively coming to his throat, then stepped closer and brought his own hand up, holding it out as he moved forward. It came to rest on Seonghwa’s chest, at first lightly, then pressing in, hot and searing like a branding iron. Seonghwa opened his mouth to scream-

“Seonghwa? Hey, wake up!”

His eyes flew open, confused and wild. 

“Hey, calm down, try to breathe.”

Hongjoong’s small face appeared in his line of sight, the crisscrossing metal bars of the underside of his bunk behind him. Seonghwa took a shuddering breath as Hongjoong brought a cold cloth to his face, wiping away sweat, and what he also realized, tears. His heart was pounding in his chest beneath Hongjoong’s other palm that was resting there. 

“You okay?” 

It took a few minutes until Seonghwa no longer felt like he’d just run a marathon and could answer. “Yeah..”

“Your fever is breaking, must have been a wild dream,” Hongjoong chuckled, trying to release the electricity in the air. He mopped Seonghwa’s brow once more before he finally removed his hands, leaving the cloth resting on the elder’s forehead. “How are you feeling now?”

Honestly, Seonghwa was mortified, never thinking he’d be in this kind of position, his roommate hovering over him in worry as he dreamt (and cried) feverishly. This was meant for daytime dramas, not their dorm room with his best friend. He wanted to be swallowed up by the ground. 

“Better, I guess,” he feigned nonchalance, but his voice scratched painfully. “What time is it? Did you guys just get home?”

“Just after five, we got back about an hour ago,” Hongjoong replied, not letting on that he’d seen Seonghwa’s tears. “Good timing too, you’re due for medicine again.”

Hongjoong held up the small packet of pills their manager had left with him and a glass of water. Seonghwa sat up shakily, taking them from him. Silence settled around them again, but it didn’t appear that Hongjoong was planning on leaving anytime soon by the way he’d gathered his things around him on the floor; notebooks, pens, a few articles of clothing mid-reform, a bag of chips and a coffee mug. 

“Sorry for taking your bed,” Seonghwa said between sips of water, “I didn’t want to risk falling out of mine, I was dizzy earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it, you can repay me by doing my laundry when you’re better.”

Seonghwa choked on his water, Hongjoong’s hand flying up to pat his back. “Don’t I anyway?” Seonghwa coughed. Hongjoong just smiled guiltily. His hand didn’t leave, instead it came to rest between Seonghwa’s shoulder blades, and then began moving in small, soothing circles. He let his eyes fall shut, the feeling of wanting to cry bubbling up in his chest again. 

“Your shirt is soaked,” Hongjoong remarked after a few minutes. “Hold on, I’ll get you another.”

Quickly, he glided around the room, knowing exactly where Seonghwa kept his neatly folded practice clothes, separate from the good ones. He returned to Seonghwa’s bedside and helped peel him out of the sweaty t-shirt, taking a moment to wipe down his back with the cold cloth and then letting him pull on his fresh one. The entire time, Seonghwa gazed down at the blankets in his lap, the familiar black and red comforter Hongjoong refused to replace even though it was older than their training days. Why did he keep wanting to cry? The fever must have fried his brain. His stomach was starting to do somersaults too but he didn’t think he could entirely blame his sickness on that one. 

“Better?”

“Mmm.”

“You should eat something. Sanie made ramen earlier.”

Seonghwa nodded and Hongjoong got up, heading to the kitchen. The elder laid back into his friend’s pillow, trying to make sense of the day. 

When any of the other members had been sick, it was usually Seonghwa looking after them while Hongjoong dealt with the logistics and their manager. San especially would always find his way into the eldest’s room and into his bed, needing more than just his plushie collection to hug when he was unwell. Seonghwa hardly minded, never having had the opportunity to comfort someone else when he was the youngest in his family. Now he had six younger brothers who teased him and loved him like a family of their own. Hongjoong on the other hand..... Seonghwa was still struggling to understand this sudden closeness. Had he missed something?

“Ah, here!” Hongjoong returned, looking entirely domestic carrying a pot with oven mitts much too big for his hands. “Sorry it took so long, San made more for you and even added some extra veggies and chicken. At least it’s a bit healthier now.”

He situated the pot of soup with the oven mitts in Seonghwa’s lap and passed him some utensils. 

“What are the others up to, anyway?” Seonghwa asked as he began to eat. “I haven’t seen them since this morning.”

“Oh, Yunho finally convinced Wooyoung to join his RPG and now they’re are all there watching mass destruction on the TV. I think San was happy to get away and make that for you,” Hongjoong chuckled. “They’ve been worried about you, but you were sleeping when we got home so I told them not to disturb you.”

Seonghwa missed them but was grateful for the quiet, he wasn’t sure his headache would have done well with all the chatter.

Hongjoong continued as Seonghwa ate. “The schedules went well, we had a picnic at lunch and went live but it was weird without you there. The fans kept asking where you were.”

“Did you tell them?”

“Yeah, we couldn’t avoid it. The comments were flooded with ‘where’s Seonghwa oppa?’ You know you’re more popular than you think,” Hongjoong mused.

Seonghwa felt heat creep back into his cheeks but fortunately Hongjoong was bent over, focusing on the pencil case he was currently painting on. He took a few more bites of soup and then tried to place it down on the floor beside him. Hongjoong was quick to set his work down and help.

“You didn’t have much, that’s not the Seonghwa appetite I know.”

Seonghwa’s stomach rolled. “Queasy..”

“Hmm. At least you look better than this morning, not so pale.”

Seonghwa slid himself back down into the blankets, wanting to pull them up over his entire face. Why did Hongjoong keep making him feel like this? It wasn’t the food.

He caught the brief sight of a paint smudged hand above him and then it was on his forehead again. 

“Do you have a fever?” Hongjoong said, imitating that horrid video Seonghwa had filmed a few months ago. “Should I sing for you?”

“Joooong,” Seonghwa whined, trying to twist away unsuccessfully. If he didn’t stop this soon, he wasn’t sure he’d ever recover. His heart thudded, butterflies taking flight. 

“Hold on, I got paint on you,” Hongjoong scrubbed at a spot above Seonghwa’s eyebrow with his thumb. “Got it.”

The smaller backed off again, trying to hold in a laugh at Seonghwa’s pained face. 

“I’m tired, let me sleep,” Seonghwa huffed, finally turning away to face the wall. “Don’t play your music too loud if you stay here.”

“Yes, sir!”

Seonghwa rolled his eyes before shutting them. Hongjoong’s soft humming lulled him back to sleep within a few minutes.

When Seonghwa woke again, the room was dark. He was facing the doorway, unable to make out any shadow of Hongjoong on the floor where he’d been earlier. But he could feel a foreign warmth against his back, this time not coming from his own body. Seonghwa listened and heard the familiar soft breathes of Hongjoong behind him against the wall. 

“Joong?” He whispered.

Hongjoong groaned, shifting slighty. An elbow poked into Seonghwa’s side. “NeedanythingHwa?” He slurred. 

“No.” Seonghwa slowly turned onto his back and blinked over at the smaller body beside him. “I told you you could use my bed, though.”

“Mm….betterhere.” Hongjoong turned to face him, eyes still shut. “Meds?”

Seonghwa lifted his head and looked at the clock. “Not for three more hours, I’m fine, go back to sleep.”

Hongjoong immediately relaxed back into the small portion of their shared pillow. “Okay…..”

Seonghwa’s heart softened once again. He must not have let himself fall too much asleep incase Seonghwa needed him, or that had been the plan. Thin arms snaked themselves around the elder’s waist and his leader’s breathing evened out, softly blowing against his neck in small puffs. 

Whatever this was, Seonghwa would have to figure out in the morning. For now, the haze of sleep and sickness, and the warmth tucked up beside him, was dragging him back. Maybe things would be normal tomorrow, or maybe they would be entirely different. This side of Hongjoong had been a mystery to him but now he wanted to explore it more. He liked it, the jokes about wanting his attention no longer being jokes, but a craving. As embarrassed as he had been, he’d had a taste and wanted more. Maybe….maybe Hongjoong did too and both had been too stoic to realize. Seonghwa drifted off, the presence beside him reeling him back down to Earth and into a dreamless sleep.

 

 

“Guys, guys look!”

“What is it!?”

“Shhh, Woo, you’re too loud.”

“Sorry…”

“Aww, it’s about time.”

“Yunho, you owe me.”

“Shhh, guys, you’ll wake them. Figure out your bet in the living room.”

“Don’t think you weren’t a part of it Yeosang, pay up.”

“Living room. Now.”

“Should I take a pic? For posterity.”

“Not unless you want your ass whooped by a tiny mullet man.”

“I’d like to see that, actually. Want to place a bet on that too?”

“San!”

“Going!”

“Mingi, wouldn’t stand a chance.”

“10, 000 won and bucket of chicken and I’ll let you take that pic.”

“I knew I could trust you, Yeoyeo.”


End file.
